Lewis, Robert Lewis
by luvsbitca
Summary: Robert Lewis had expected to die in service to Her Majesty, instead his time as a double-0 ended in reassignment on an island. He's still going to meet back up with destiny in the shape of a blond emerging from the ocean. Written for the Lewis Summer Challenge on LJ and DW 'lewis challenge'


**Title –** Lewis, Robert Lewis  
 **Author –** Moonbeam (luvsbitca)  
 **Summary –** Robert Lewis had expected to die in service to Her Majesty, instead his time as a double-0 ended in reassignment on an island. He's still going to meet back up with destiny in the shape of a blond emerging from the ocean.  
 **Rating –** Mature, there is sex.  
 **Disclaimer –** I don't own anything.  
 **Author's Notes –** Written for the Lewis Summer Challenge on LJ and DW 'lewis_challenge'  
It's not warm here…it's coooooold, so I'm taking our men somewhere warm, and not England warm – real warmth.  
The James Bond fusion…NO ONE NEEDED, absolutely no one. Thank you to pushkin666 for saying they wanted to read it.  
This started as one thing, then became something else, then because a Bond fusion, and then I had to completely re-write it with a different premise because what I started was going to be way too long.

 **Lewis, Robert Lewis**  
by Moonbeam

There were things in this life that Robert Lewis had expected.

He had expected his time as a double-0 would end early.  
He had expected to die in service to Her Majesty.  
He had expected to widow Val.  
He had expected that his life would have been valuable to Queen and Country but that no one would ever know about it.

Then life went a different way.

He'd been a double-0 so long they offered him retirement or reassignment.  
Val had been killed on a street corner in London by some hit and run driver.  
And his life had been valuable to Queen and Country but now he was just an old agent on assignment on an Island that was frequented by the world's rich, powerful, corrupt, and evil.

And now, he was sitting at the outdoor bar at the most expensive, and exclusive, hotel in Road Town and watching a clean-shaven, pale man with red-brown hair talking to the man that Lewis was currently watching – an occultist with ties to several very questionable 'religions' and high-powered members of the Russian government. The man was from Warwickshire originally but he'd spent much of his life trying to hide that fact. The bald man had visited the Islands repeatedly over the last six months and Lewis had made it his habit, since he'd first been given this assignment, to come to this bar regularly. He was known on the island as a well-off writer who was hiding his nom du plume but he fit in here because he didn't ask questions, he held the parties he was supposed to hold, and he didn't go to _all_ the parties that were on offer. But he also fit in here because…he wasn't staying – he stood up, nodded at the waitress and slipped through the crowd. He dropped a listening device into the new man's jacket where it lay across the back of his chair while he was smiling at Jasmine who had been living on the island for almost as long as he had and had spent more than one night in Robert's bed. He kept walking towards the beach and stepped down onto the soft, squeaky, white sand.

He had only strolled fifty metres from the bar when he caught something out of the corner of his eye and allowed his attention to be dragged in that direction. He turned to watch a blond head emerge from the sea, with a flick the water flew out and left the white-blond hair in a curl and then more of the man emerged. A long face, something stern but humorous in the expression as he stalked out of the waves, revealing a long, pale torso corded with muscles and a pair of low-riding pale blue swim trunks that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The man finished walking out of the water, white tips lapping at his ankles when Lewis forced his brain back to himself and turned to walk the rest of the way down the beach to his cottage. But his mind was occupied with the question of who the man had been. The display, and he had a strong belief that it was a display, had been for someone's benefit but there were too many options for who that intended target was.

The next day, when the sun was almost up over the trees, Lewis heard someone walking along the verandah that wrapped around his cottage and Lewis silently moved over to his coffee table, ready to flick the compartment open and get his gun if it was needed. But the person dropped something on his doorstep and then almost skipped off the verandah and he knew it was Anton from the resort. He waited five minutes and then opened the door to find an invitation resting on the braided mat.

That night, he adjusted the cuffs of his tuxedo and slid his keys into his pocket before he strode towards the entrance and slipped his invite into the waiting hands. Lewis looked quickly around the room, noting the exits, noting the people he had been watching and was still tracking and listening to, before he headed to the bar like he had not seen anyone of note. He ordered his cocktail of choice, sparing a thought for the man who had introduced him to that particular drink, and then turned his side to the bar and waited. He felt body heat next to him and turned slowly, noting the sharp-cut, navy blue suit before he recognised the man from the beach.

"Good evening," Lewis said, handing the bartender a note and letting his eyes leave the blond man to sip at his martini and then smiled his appreciation as he was handed his change.

"I saw you yesterday, didn't I?" the man said, voice coloured with a hint of British upper-class.

Lewis studied him for a moment and then let himself smile. "I believe you were swimming."

"James," the man said, holding out a hand and smirking at Lewis like he'd been making that display just for him.

"Robert."

"Hello Robert."

"Hello, James, please excuse me," Lewis smiled his goodbye and stepped out from the bar, catching the eye of Mitchell Fitzpatrick – an ex-pat who might be clean or very good at hiding his criminal operations but was the cultural centre of Road Town.

"You have an admirer," Mitchell said, not bothering to say hello.

"The blond?"

"Holding up the bar and not taking his eyes off you."

"He must be new to the island."

"He's been here two weeks, James Howarth, he's an actor apparently – Shakespeare mainly but well respected and something like the next big thing, if my contacts are to be believed."

"You generally have the best information on the island," Lewis said with a smile.

"Then I expect you'll believe me when I decide to leave you to your newest admirer."

Lewis turned and James smiled at him as he walked past, out into the cool sea air where he saw the other man light a cigarette. Lewis's eyes spotted a bald head farther out on the deck, holding an old fashioned denicotinising holder and the red-headed man from before so he followed James Howarth outside and decided to spend some time getting to know the actor while he was gathering intelligence.

…

Robert pushed James in through his front door and followed, tugged by the blond's grip on his lapels. He licked his way into James' mouth and pushed the younger man towards the bed, taking everything James was offering him and giving back at least as much.

He stripped off his tuxedo jacket and followed James down onto the mattress. Neither of them said a word as Robert peeled the tight layers of material from the pale body until all that was left were a pair of soft, striped briefs that did nothing to hide the erection from Robert's gaze. James wrapped his long, strong legs around Robert's hips and flipped him over, ripping into the material of his shirt and stripping Robert quickly, thoroughly, and with something that made the need throbbing through his cock thrum faster.

Robert reached out for his lube and condoms and James caught his eye and held it while he writhed on top of Robert opening himself up and sliding the condom down over Robert's cock. His eyes closed, head thrown back, as he lowered himself slowly down onto Robert and started to move.

…

Two days later, James kissed him goodbye, and left the island – never to be seen again.

…

Two weeks later, and a lot of time spent watching increasingly questionable meetings and listening to conversations that would send MI:6 into a tizzy, his phone rang and Lewis frowned. He pulled the phone from the secret compartment in his coffee table and hit the accept button. "Hello."

"Lewis," a bright, almost smugly pleased, voice said into his ear.

"Jean," Lewis forced himself to say, biting down the ma'am that wanted to escape.

"You need to come home, the publisher needs to see you to finalise the information for the newest book."

"Of course."

"I've booked you a flight for Wednesday, all of the information is in an email."

"I'll see you when I get back then."

"Yes, goodbye, Lewis."

When the line went silent, Lewis grabbed the tablet from the compartment and walked to the bathroom. Flicking on the steam shower, he settled on the toilet to connect to the secure satellite.

"Lewis," J said, looking at him through the monitor. "It seems the Islands are agreeing with you."

"Thank you, Ma'am."

"We have another operative incoming to your location, he is looking at the man you tagged a week ago – we believe he may be a person of interest and are sending a double-0 to deal with it."

"Understood."

"And we are taking the opportunity to pull you in so we can assess your ability to remain there in cover."

"Understood."

"Bring your equipment, our new Quartermaster will provide you with upgrades if you are to return."

"Understood, ma'am."

"A junior agent, Hathaway, will be waiting for you at the airport."

"Looking forward to coming home, ma'am."

"No need for that tone, Lewis," J said with the hint of a smile. "Goodbye."

And the screen went black. Lewis put the tablet away and then prepared to leave. He left the devices he had planted throughout the island in place; they would continue to transmit until they were remotely killed. On Wednesday, he boarded a plane headed for England for the first time in three years.

…

Lewis spotted his name, hastily handwritten on a sign, as he came down the escalator. The blond hair above the sign was familiar and his suspicions were confirmed when James's face appeared behind the sign wearing a pair of dark sunglasses and a grin that wasn't quite as confident as he wanted it to be.

"James?"

"Robert."

"I wasn't expecting to see you."

"I'm your contact…Hathaway, Mr Lewis."

"I see," Lewis said, reconciling the man he'd spent two rather wonderful days, and three very hot nights, with and the junior agent that had been sent to collect him from the airport.

"I have a car waiting outside."

"Then we should go," Lewis said, knowing that now was not the right time for any of the questions he had.

"Your bags?"

"Not sure if I'm back for good," Lewis offered with a shrug, "this is all I have."

James…no Hathaway, nodded and turned for the exit. Robert followed him.

This Lewis had not expected, but he had a feeling that his life was going to be a little harder to predict with the blond in his life.

 **The End**


End file.
